It usually takes a chain of failures to create an accident

That is how experts explain it when an aircraft or train crashes - something which is not supposed to happen.  Or when a nuclear plant goes haywire.  Anyway, even in our not-so-foolproof lives the same thing can cause us anything from mirth to misery.

In our previous house the insurers demanded that we install either burglar-proofing or an alarm system.  With large picture windows burglar proofing was not the clear favourite.  So: an up-to-the minute alarm with remote call-out of the police, remotes to arm and disarm, cat-proof motion detectors, and all, was installed.  Spiders on the sensors caused a few daytime alarms but it worked well, human error excepted.

Then came the night of high drama - the one where we had a chain of failures.

Mollie (our poodle) was still young enough to sleep next to the bed.  She was not alarm-safe, being a standard poodle in the making (hitch 1).  We normally disabled the sensor in the bedroom when we slept - the one in the passage was protection enough (hitch 2).  I used the remote to turn the alarm on at night once we were sure we were in bed for the duration; that's how it was disarmed in the morning too (hitch 3).  Our son in Florida knew about time differences (hitch 4).  Can you see where this is going?

Yes, he phoned at about 8 or 9 pm - a good time to phone if you are in Florida.  This translates to the small hours in South Africa.  OK, phone in the bedroom rings, wakes everybody, especially Mollie.  Mollie leaps up and sets off alarm.  Alarm alarms Mollie and she starts barking.  Now we have the phone, the hellish alarm and the barking.  I have no idea whether Antony heard any of the chaos when I picked up the phone or whether we had managed to silence the alarm and the dog by then.  There was of course the looming possibility that the police would be hammering at our door imminently.  It was a memorable night.  There was not a lot of sleeping after that.  And, Antony, I always love your phone calls, whatever the time, whatever the consequences.

We don't have an alarm in this house.

Language teachers look away now!

I was marking a set of exam papers written by 120 fifteen-year-olds.  One of the questions required a single-word answer: isosceles.  Please note that this word appeared on the exam paper in another place.  All 120 of them gave the "correct" answer, in that it was there, and it was understandable.

Afterwards, I collected all these isosceleses  and discovered that it is possible to spell the word wrongly, but understandably, in at least twenty-seven different ways.  For the reader's delectation, I give them all here.

ilsoslens; iscoseles; iscosolese; isoceles; isocelese; isocelles; isocles; isocoles; isocolese; isosalease; isosales; isosceles; isoscelese; isoselas; isoseles; isoselese; isosicles; isosiles; isosles; isoslice; isosoceles; isosocles; isosolees; isosoles; isosolese; isosolies; isosolies; issoles

The trick is to find the correct one (as there are twenty-eight, and I found twenty-seven wrong ones, it must be there!) (and no, we don't penalise spelling errors in maths papers) in this alphabetical list.

The good old days

I had slowly been forming the opinion that our fresh fruit and vegetables were changing over the years.  You know how you remember when you sat in the apricot tree eating the soft, warm sweet apricots.  And the warnings from adults that eating warm fruit will make you ill.  And the ignoring of the warnings . . .

I couldn't understand how it was that the breeders of fruit varieties could just not manage what the breeders of our vegetables seemed to be doing so effortlessly.

Think how the sweetcorn of today differ from the sweetcorn of forty years ago.  Think of the cucumbers; and the tomatoes; make your own list.  None are worse; almost all are improved.

About the fruit:  Could my tastes have changed in fruit and not in vegetables?  The only apples you can buy are green, sour and hard; yellow, sour and hard; red, sour and hard.  Bananas are obviously picked green and put in storage.  They end up tasteless apart from a bitter aftertaste.  Japanese kaki (the original fruit of the gods when soft and ripe) now don't get soft (soft isn't good for transporting) so they never develop the rich sweet aromatic taste.  Grapes are good for looking at - but horrible to eat.  What we used to call hanepoot is now unobtainable.


But I have been barking up the wrong tree all along - it is not the new varieties that I should blame.  The agriculturists are doing fine.  It is market forces.  From what I see in overseas fresh food markets the answer is simple.  In South Africa we don't export much in the vegetable line - not in the quantities of our fruit.  So it appears to me that we are selling our best fruit overseas, leaving the leavings for our shops.  And I am voting with my feet.  I will eat the good South African fruit overseas when I get the chance, and stick to vegetables when at home.

Get the paperwork right

Our family had to follow Jon to London, where he was on a two-year assignment. The children were toddlers, so it was very exciting, and not too much trouble.

I was a cat breeder at the time and it seemed likely that I might want to import new blood to South Africa. As I knew that importing animals might be tricky, I contacted the Veterinary Services department to get all the information beforehand. So, armed with forms to fill in and questions to ask, we examined the cat scene in England.

One of the important contacts was the late Roy Robinson who was the local guru on animal genetics, particularly that of small mammals including cats. Through him we decided to import, apart from two cats, a pair of a small species of hamster – still rare at that stage.

At the end of the two years we flew back to South Africa - minus Jon, as he had a few loose ends to tie up. We were returning to a non-existent home, and so had a lot of necessities in our baggage. In addition to the two cat cages and the hamster box, we checked in twelve suitcases, boxes and parcels.

As fate would have it, in the days when smoking was still allowed in aircraft, we were accidentally booked in the smoking section. In spite of the misery and whimpering of the children, the chain cigar smoker would not desist. So, early on a Sunday morning in Johannesburg, I disembarked with two tired, fractious children and proceeded to claim the howling cats, hamsters and other parcels. At this stage my heart was in my boots at the thought of having to open and explain all the cases.

The immigration officer confronted with this cacophonous menagerie did the obvious thing and said, “Have you got a permit to bring these animals in?”

That is where things started going right for the first time in twelve hours. He took my carefully-compiled papers, examined the cargo, and phoned Veterinary Services. On getting a positive response, he turned to me with a big smile and waved me and my parcels straight through!

The Golden Rule

In general people know what moves them better than they understand what moves others. Those who are very analytical, introspective or self-aware understand their own motivations, feelings and wishes. And, innately, they are inclined to follow these promptings. Even those blessed with less self-awareness, do the same.

It is much easier for me to excuse, explain or pardon my own failings than to forgive the faults of others. Not necessarily because I am more selfish (although I might be), but simply because I can't see into another's heart. I would have to make allowance for the unknown factors prompting someone else's actions. Napoleon had an inkling when he said, “Don't ascribe to malice that which can better be explained by stupidity.”

Many people believe that their actions are directed by some outside agency; even fate or karma. Nonetheless, they still act as they “want” to act. If I say that I do only what I want to do, this does not mean that I will now steal another's car because I like the look of it. No, I “want” to remain in the good books of the law enforcers. In a sense my actions are directed by the law.

So we all do as we see fit, in many ways. Of course, this does not mean that we are chained to a destiny. There are still choices. We can follow the widely accepted principle that it is good to do unto others as we would like them to do unto us.

Why is it so hard, though? Is it because the heat of an impulsive response overturns the cool reason of altruism? Is it selfishness trumping kindness?